


but do you feel like a young god?

by ThePirateHawk



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Allydia - Freeform, Alternate Universe, F/F, M/M, Scisaac - Freeform, TeenwolfAU, malira
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePirateHawk/pseuds/ThePirateHawk
Summary: The war against the hunters went a little different; in America, all supernatural people were rounded up and imprisoned in special compounds that were practically impossible to infiltrate.The compounds were all labeled under one family's name: the Argents. It was chiefly run by Gerard Argent, whose ending time was coming soon. They started a little side project, something to extend human life.The McCall pack were put in separate compounds a few miles from each other. It was believed among many hunters that if a pack were separated from each other for a certain amount of time, it would continually weaken their abilities. It was never proven if this worked or not, so as the supernatural kept pouring in, they eventually made the mistake of putting all of them in one building.The majority of Europe had had enough of America's crazy plan to oppress all supernatural. They knew that it was going to blow up in America's face, and they kept trying to point that out, but their complaints fell upon deaf ears.That was when Isaac Lahey made a few phone calls.





	1. i've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool for awhile now

America felt so foreign to Isaac now, even though he had lived there almost all of his life. Everything was different after the supernatural identities had been revealed to the public. There were Blood Check Points in almost ever place, including the airport he was about to land in.

France was much different than America, he had figured that out pretty quickly even before the Supernatural Intolerance Act had been put into place in America. It wasn't as gorgeous as everyone raved on about— as a matter of fact, it was quite different than the stereotype that he had been told. He didn't regret going there, though.

He just regretted leaving Scott behind.

If Isaac had a chance to do this all over, he would. He would keep Allison from dying, and he would take Scott with him to France. Did he honestly really care about anybody else? Not really, but he figured he didn't want Malia and Lydia to end up like they were now.

Isaac was grateful he had gotten out of America before shit had hit the fan. He had just gotten settled a few months into staying in France when the news of America's explosion of knowledge came. He remembered dropping the book he was holding in his hand, and he remembered his first thought going to Scott McCall.

Oh, Scott McCall. The slightly shorter alpha with those brown eyes that Isaac knew he had fallen head over heels for. Isaac missed Scott; he wished he was here with him.

But no, Scott McCall was locked up in the Celestine Argent Compound in Atlanta, Georgia. They had transferred him away from California to the southern state due to overpopulation in his original compound. They had also assumed Scott wasn't as dangerous as he had been at first, which was their second mistake.

Their first mistake was locking Isaac's boy up.

How Isaac knew all of this information was thanks to a trusted insider; Kira Yukimura. She had trusted him enough to tell him her location and the whereabouts and updates on the McCall pack. Isaac could of easily turned her in and gotten her imprisoned, but of course, he didn't. He wouldn't do that. He trusted Kira to an extent, and she trusted him.

Besides, she could always turn him in for what he was about to do.

Isaac leaned his face against the small spherical window of the plane. He had kept the cover up instead of down and covering it; he liked to look out the window and watch the clouds. It had been a long flight. To be honest, it felt longer than the flight from America to France had felt. But then again, that was awhile ago, wasn't it?

The passenger next to him was definitely human; he guessed he was the only hidden supernatural on the entire plane. Hiding your identity was becoming harder and harder when entering America from another country. They had started doing CTs, which were known as Cut Tests. If you were suspected to be a supernatural, they would slice a small precise cut on the palm of your left hand. If you healed, you were dragged off (usually kicking and screaming). If you didn't heal, they apologized for the inconvenience and let you carry on.

They, of course, couldn't check every single incomer. That would take hours upon hours, especially since they had to wait a few moments to see if it would heal. Some, like Isaac, had developed the ability to postpone their healing process. However, this was only for a short period of time. It didn't always work for them, and they'd end up getting dragged off anyways.

Since they couldn't check every incomer, this was just chosen by random pick. It all depended on the odds. Isaac didn't exactly always have the best luck in life, but he hoped the little luck he did have paid off today. It was like before the SIA (Supernatural Intolerance Act), where random people would be chosen to have their bags checked. 

What Isaac was doing was risking his entire existence and the entire scheme he had been planning with Chris Argent, Allison Argent, and Kira Yukimura. He had to do it, though. This was apart of the plan. Isaac had to get into America. Then he could properly meet with the Argents and Kira.

When Isaac had first been told Allison Argent was alive, his whole world had felt like it was being thrown upside down. She, however, was still recovering. She was diagnosed too weak to carry on with the mission physically, but she could still assist with the planning of it. That girl was smart as a whip, no doubt. Isaac was grateful to have her again. 

When Chris Argent had first left Isaac in France, he had been insanely bitter. How could the adult just leave him, all alone, in a foreign country like that? But now, Isaac understood. Chris had gone over to America again to assist Scott. That made it okay to Isaac— if he couldn't help Scott himself at that time, it didn't matter. He was about to help Scott now.

Isaac let his eyes flutter closed, his face relaxing into a calm expression, which was completely contrary to how he was feeling on the inside. He felt totally nervous, but he knew he had to keep a calm facade. Panicking wouldn't help anybody; it would just get him revealed and imprisoned, maybe even killed now.

That was what had sped up the original operation idea. Not only Isaac, Allison, and Kira's eagerness to see their pack members again, but the fact that the Americans had begun to execute supernatural thanks to overpopulation and crowding. If some supernatural as much as threatened someone under their breath, they were subject to be "put down" because of "hazardous violent tendencies to those around them." Or what Isaac liked to call, "killing them for fun."

The supernatural had become the hunted, no doubt. They had always been the hunted, actually. Now more than ever. The ways of the former Argents that had seemed barbaric before looked like child's play. People seemed to get some sort of sick satisfaction from harming the supernatural. This wasn't everyone, of course, but it was a vast majority of citizens.

Isaac could feel the soft humming of the mechanics of the plane through the window. It was a soft vibration, but his enhanced hearing made it seem like more. He bit his lip slightly, dragging it between his teeth before releasing it again. His eyes remained closed, and he tried to keep a relaxed look. He needed to look as unsuspecting as possible. One slight suspicion and he could be tested with the CT; he didn't know how lost he could exactly postpone his healing. Especially when he was uneasy like this. It took a lot of trained focus. 

Funny how something that was so useful immediately back then now had to be postponed? Healing had to be stopped. What an iron, right?

Isaac's eyes fluttered open when he felt a solid kick to the back of his seat. He glanced over at the person sitting behind him. It was a man with amber brown eyes and a familiar sharp jaw. He suddenly smirked, recognizing that face. "Of all people, it had to be you, Michael." Isaac mumbled.

"What can I say? I hear of mischief and I want to join in." Stiles said casually, giving Isaac's seat another solid kick for good measure. "I can't believe you were gonna try to do this without me."

"Well," Isaac picked his words carefully. Anybody could be listening. "With you busy with your job, we didn't think you'd be interested in joining." He spoke very vaguely for both of their safety. With Stiles working at the FBI, he wasn't the best person to get involved in a prison break heist. 

"Pfft, I would always choose family over work." Stiles spoke vaguely as well. Training in the FBI had taught him well, Isaac mused.

"Is that so? Did Celeste inform you about our little get together?" Isaac asked, eyeing Stiles. He figured it might of been Allison who told Stiles. Not that he really minded; they honest to God needed all the help they could muster up.

"Indeed she did."

Isaac nodded after Stiles had responded. The person beside him had begun to eye him a little suspiciously, so he ended the conversation as casually as he could.

"Ah, well it was nice seeing you again, Michael," Isaac almost emphasized the name he had suddenly decided for Stiles. Given Stiles was a rare name and it would easily trace back to the Stilinski boy behind him, he decided on something that started with the same letter as his real name. Michael was a generic enough name compared to Stiles and his true name, right? Isaac was known as David, his middle name, by Kira and Allison. He figured Stiles would know to call him that as well.

Isaac went back to leaning his head against the window of the aircraft, eyes fluttering closed as he pondered about how this all was gonna go. He knew they weren't going to get out of there unscathed. Hell, they'll probably lose someone. Isaac clenched his jaw slightly at the thought. He couldn't bear to lose Scott— or Allison and Kira, for that matter. Stiles, he could maybe bear, but it would still sting.. a little.

Isaac wondered what Scott was going through at the moment. He knew Scott must be dealing with some pretty bad treatment at the moment. Isaac wasn't entirely sure what they exactly did to supernatural in those compounds; nobody on the outside knew, really. Kira, who had kept herself hidden for awhile now, knew a little about the tortures in there. But even she said she couldn't anticipate everything they did in there.

Isaac felt a flair of instictively protective anger. Scott was the literal definition of an angel. How could they lock him up like that? How could they lock anyone innocent up like that? It didn't make any sense. Their crime was being born, being bitten, being created— they didn't always ask to be like this. Isaac did, but Scott didn't. Scott never had a choice. But here he was, paying for something he never intended to happen: him being a werewolf. Specifically, a true alpha werewolf.

Isaac promised himself quietly that he would give anyone who hurt Scott and the others the reckoning of their damn existence. They thought they could just beat supernatural down.

Well, what happens when you put water on a grease fire?

It blows up in your face.


	2. but it's the devil that's trying to hold me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac Lahey arrives at the Atlanta airport.

Isaac bit into his bottom lip as the pilot announced over the speakers that they were about to land. He sat up a little straighter, eyeing the people around him. Not many of the positions had changed before now; the lady off in the next row a couple seats down had still been dropping on the windowsill while the person next to her had been doing one of those cheap crossword puzzles you could get in Publix for two dollars max.

Now, however, everybody was coming to attention. People started gathering the little things they had out closer. Kids were making sure they had all their electronics' accessories and pieces in order. Isaac found himself drumming his fingertips on his knee, continuing to look at all the people he could see on the plane.

Isaac felt a flash of irritation when he felt Stiles give his seat another solid kick. He was about to turn around and say something when he reminded himself to keep his identity on the down low. Don't attract any attention; just blend in with the crowd. Isaac had blended in all of his life before the bite. Nobody had ever noticed the bruises that were scattered across his pale frame like splotches of varies degrees of green, brown, and purple paint. He could blend in like before, right?

Isaac knew Stiles was most likely just trying to irritate him like he usually did. He lightly drummed his fingertips on his knee, developing a pattern in the way he did so. 

As the plane neared the landing stretch, Isaac felt a little bit of his anxiety become relieved. Maybe things would work out after all? Why would they pick him, of all the thirty two people on the plane, to be tested? He tried to be the least suspecting of them all. He may not be doing the best, but he was doing well so far, right?

Just as soon as his worried had relieved a little, they came back twice as bad. Isaac was tempted to chew on his nails like he used to do before, but he looked down at his nails and decided not to. He was oddly proud of how long they had gotten; they were a normal, maybe short, length. That was good for him, though. He was starting to break the habit.

Isaac stood up when he was told to, but he was planning on waiting for everyone else to pass before he got off. He didn't like crowds; he'd rather be behind one than in one. But then again? He was supposed to blend in, right? He stepped out of his little row, opening the overheard cubbie they had. He got the lady's (the one who had been sitting beside him) bag down for her since he was blessed with a height of six foot three. He grabbed his own bag and closed the compartment, weaving his way patiently through the crowd as they made their way towards the exit.

Stepping on American ground wasn't as different as Isaac expected it to be. If anything, it just increased his anxiety. Isaac looked at the masses making their way through the airport. 

Well, when this airport had been chosen for the world's busiest, they definitely chose right.

Isaac walked towards the check area. He had no interest in wandering around in here for longer than necessary. He had the odd feeling he might get lost. After maneuvering though the throngs of people he occasionally came across— it was thinning out a lot by now, he only came across people every once in awhile now. 

Isaac could sense that there were someone following him, and he knew exactly who it was. Stiles was most definitely trying to keep tabs on him, following him to wherever he was going. He was a part of the scheme after all, now, right?

Though, Kira and Allison had never told him about Stiles joining in on the heist. When was this decided? When was he invited? What if he actually wasn't, and he was on the FBI's side? What if Isaac was about to lead him right to their plan? What if Isaac was about to ruin his chance to ever see Scott alive again?

Deciding to see exactly what Stiles was planning, Isaac veered off from his route towards the security check point and into the nearest men's restroom. He waited in there for a few moments, knowing Stiles was going to follow him in there.

As predicted, Stiles walked right in. As soon as he did, Isaac grabbed him sharply by the elbow, looking at him with a strong intensity in his blue eyes.

"What the hell, man?"

"I don't trust you." Isaac said quietly. "Not enough. What do you know?"

"David, relax." Somehow, these words only caused Isaac to tighten his grip. Stiles tried a different statement. "Celestine. Gregorio, Camille-Grace, and Elizabeth." Stiles tilted his head. "Or would you rather I say it in French for you? Here: Votre petit ami, la petite amie de Yuki et la petite amie de Celeste." Stiles spoke his French with a slight brokenness, but other than that, it was almost perfect.

Isaac relaxed a little, no longer feeling like a snake coiled up, ready to strike. He released Stiles from his grip. "I just- I had to make sure, Michael." He regained his cool composure.

"I know. Lose it like that again, though, and we may have to trash this entire plan if you can't keep it together." Stiles responded before Isaac left the restroom, feeling a little bit more relieved.

After making his way to the security check point, Isaac had just built more and more on both his anxiety and confidence. Now his feelings were a mixture of the both, a dangerous concoction just waiting to reveal his true identity. The security guard looked at him suspiciously, almost as if he were going to ask for him to step aside from the detector for a CT. Isaac stepped up to the metal detector when suddenly there was a commotion behind him.

"Supernatural!"

Isaac felt everything in him freeze, and he was sure his damn heart had stopped completely. He was confused that the security guard waved him though the scan with no issues, instead focusing on the fight that had started.

Isaac watched from the other side of the check point, seeing them drag Stiles up to the CT area. He felt a smile almost make its way onto his face. That little shit had been planning that all along, hadn't he?

Despite their differences, Stiles wasn't going to let Isaac get taken, too. Isaac really appreciated that. He watched as Stiles passed the CT with flying colors, making it over to Isaac's side of the check point with a slight grin.

"Saved you yet again, asshole," Stiles muttered to him as they started walking towards the baggage claim section of the airport.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Again? I don't remember there being a time before this one." He protested casually, a smile threatening to raise on his lips.

"Shh, just go with it, David." Stiles wave him off dismissively. "I just can't think of the time right now. But there was one." He insisted.

"Whatever you say, Michael." Isaac shrugged as he went up to the conveyor belt. He eyed the different bags appearing. He waited for a good two minutes before he finally spotted his silver and purple duffel bag. He leaned over and grabbed it, slinging it over onto his left shoulder.

Isaac waited with Stiles as he watched for his own bag. After five more minutes, Stiles was beginning to get a little frustrated before he finally spotted the brown bag. He snatched it up, swinging it on to his shoulder in a manner like Isaac's.

The two made their way over to the big doors marking the exit of the building. Isaac was eager to get out of here already, but Stiles didn't seem to mind the place. He must be pretty familiar with airports. He knew exactly what to do to get that security guard's attention, anyways. Stiles walked out of the building with a dramatic flair.

"Atlanta, Georgia, watch out, because here we come."


	3. I was born without this fear, now only this seems clear, I need to move, I need to fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Stiles end up meeting with Kira.

Isaac raised an eyebrow when he reached the vehicle Stiles had waiting for them— it was a Mercedes Benz, of all cars. It was quite the upgrade from Roscoe the rickety Jeep. It had a sleek exterior appearance; it was the color of silver and blue mixed together. If Isaac had to guess the year, he'd guess 2007, maybe 2008. He eyed the car before he got in the passenger side.

The inside of the Mercedes was a nice tan leather color, like a beige shade. It was a little hot from the sun shining in on it through the windshield all day, but Isaac didn't mind. He eyed Stiles as he got into the car on the driver's side. He must of seen the confused look on Isaac's face, because he suddenly shook his head.

"This baby? Not mine. It's Allison's now." Stiles patted the steering wheel lightly. "Now, let's go." He stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, bringing the humming engine to life. 

Isaac could see Allison driving this. It was a nice car. He drummed his fingertips lightly on the middle console as Stiles pulled out of the parking place. It was a little odd to see Stiles driving something other than his beloved Roscoe.

"Where is Roscoe anyways?" Isaac asked curiously.

"Roscoe? Eh, he's about to fall apart on me. Still love him though. He's back in good old California. My pop's taking good care of him." Stiles said as he looked both ways before turning out of the airport parking lot. He got onto the main road and started heading towards where they were supposed to go.

"I take it you know where we are off to?" 

"No, I'm just guessing." Stiles said, his usual level of sarcasm soaking his tone. "Yes, I know where we are going to." He confirmed before taking a sudden and sharp turn left, making Isaac believe that statement a little less.

"Sorry, haha, these Atlanta roads are hard to get used to. It's crazy traffic up in here, isn't it?" Stiles said as he changed lanes, speeding up a bit.

Isaac could feel the slight humming grow as Stiles accelerated, and he leaned his head back against the mostly comfortable headrest of his seat. He watched as Stiles reached over and turned on the radio, making a comment about how silence drove him mad sometimes. The volume of the music was kept a bit low, so Isaac expected Stiles to start talking soon. 

As predicted, he did.

"I don't think you realize how bad it is here, Isaac." Ah, so they have dropped the codenames for now. "For the supernatural, I mean. For humans, it's okay. It's good, even. For those who don't fight against the oppression of the werewolves and company." Stiles said, focusing on the road for a moment before continuing to talk. "Derek's gone."

Those words hit Isaac like a slap across the face. "I was told he escaped?" Isaac sputtered out. That's why he hadn't included Derek in his plan; the sneaky bastard had already managed his way out of one of those damn compounds.

"Yeah, well, he didn't get very far." Stiles's voice was flat, and it lacked its usual energy. Isaac pretended he didn't notice Stiles reach up and wipe at his eye; he figured Stiles wouldn't want Isaac to see that. "I guess I know how Lydia felt when Allison died." He said quietly.

"Oh." Isaac sounded deflated. He hadn't expected that to happen— as far as he had known, Derek was alive. But apparently not anymore. He bit down on his bottom lip. He tried not to think about the fact the man who had originally taken him in was gone. Getting depressed wouldn't help anybody, right?

"That's part of the reason I suddenly joined. I know this makes me sound selfish but- but when Derek got out, which I assisted him with, I felt like we could make it to Canada to it'd be home free." Stiles tightened his grip on the steering wheel a little. "That's how it was supposed to be." Isaac didn't have the heart to get mad at Stiles for being like that, because he knew he would be the same with Scott. "But nothing ever goes as expected, right?"

"Right," Isaac said quietly. "It never does." Isaac was no stranger to being disappointed by life. He was supposed to grow up happy with his mother, a good father, and his loyal and protective brother. But all Isaac got was being alone even with people around him. His entire immediate family was gone. But he had his pack now. He had Scott. He was going to get Scott, or he would die trying.

 "I can't take it here anymore." Isaac looked over at Stiles as Stiles spoke. "This propaganda about how evil supernatural are— the victims of ones turned bad. Everything is bound to go bad. Humans have killed more in their history than supernatural have. But we only focus on things when it can damn others, right? We pick and choose what we want from history, not the entire truth." Stiles's words were true. His gaze hardened as he suddenly pressed his foot a little harder on the gas pedal.

Isaac instinctively reached up for the handle near the window as Stiles sped up. He didn't exactly trust the guy's Mercedes driving skills.

"They're getting rid of me."

Isaac looked over at Stiles, confused at what he had just said.

"The FBI. After all the training I've done. They think I'm too nice to supernatural. They claim they aren't sure where my loyalty lies." Stiles let out a harsh chuckle, eyes narrowed slightly as he changed lanes on the road again suddenly. "I wonder how they would feel if I told them the werewolf they shot and killed three days ago was my boyfriend of two years?" Stiles tightened his grip a little more on the steering wheel.

"That's another reason why you're helping us, Stiles." Isaac eyed Stiles carefully. "You have nothing else left to lose." 

Stiles didn't say anything, instead focusing on the road. Isaac took that as a sign not to say anything else about the matter; Stiles was done talking anyways. For Stiles Stilinski to go quiet, it meant he definitely had something going on in that mind of his. 

They were like this for ten minutes, silent almost to an awkward point. Isaac leaned his head against the window in a way similar to what he had been doing in the airplane earlier that day. He had been told he would get a ride to the meeting place, but nobody had ever told him it was going to be with Stiles damn Stilinski of all people. Back in high school, Isaac remembered he and Stiles bashed heads. Their personalities didn't suit the other well. Scott would always be so exasperated at their dislike of each other.

Now, though, Stiles didn't seem so bad to Isaac. Maybe they just never had the chance to really get along before.

The scenery passed by; varying types of cars, motorbikes, and trucks, metal road barriers, flashes of green medians between the two sides of what Isaac guessed what they were on was a highway. He smiled slightly at a little girl who waved at him from the silver sudan she was in. He had given a small little wave back.

He wondered if she would of cowered back in fear if she knew what she was.

The public had been fed nothing but lies about the supernatural. Isaac had heard some of them via Kira and via the media, but he didn't know all of them. He knew Stiles most likely did, though. He wanted to ask him exactly how they have represented the supernatural, specifically werewolves, but Stiles seemed to be in his own silent little place in his mind. So Isaac maintained the silence, letting his eyes flutter closed once again that day as he leaned against the window. He could feel the vibrations of the car through the thick glass. 

Isaac missed Scott more than he would like to admit. He missed that cute little smile he had, those twinkling brown eyes, and that soft brown hair he possessed. There were so many other attributes to Scott McCall that caused Isaac to fall head over heels for the damn guy. Isaac never would of thought he was gay, but as soon as Scott came into his life, he quickly changed his mind on that.

When Isaac opened his eyes again, Stiles was turning off the highway onto an exit. He didn't get a chance to read what the exit number was before they were flying down that road. He was about to tell Stiles to slow it down a little before a police officer flagged them down and gave them a speeding ticket. Whenever pulled over, a simple CT was always necessary. They'd take out their knives they were required to carry around and cut the suspect's palm, even if they weren't the driver. The whole car was tested. Stiles, however, must of been able to tell he was speeding, because he immediately slowed down to the speed limit on the road.

Two years ago, Isaac would of never seen himself taking a road trip like this with Stiles Stilinski of all people. He had imagined driving off away from Beacon Hills with Scott before— he could see them travelling the country and falling in love and— he mentally shook the thought away. He could fantasize about Scott all he wanted, but none of that ever had a chance of happening unless he finished their plan to heist the Celestine Compound in this city.

 "We're almost there."

Isaac looked over at Stiles as he spoke for the first time in this half of the car ride. "Alright." Isaac said with a slight nod. He leaned back in the seat, looking at the car in front of them through the windshield. It was a pale grey Toyota Camry. He eyed the license plate in boredom, noticing the University of Alabama symbol on it. He had never been one for football. Now that he thought about it, he didn't think any of the pack members had really enjoyed watching football every Sunday. Except Boyd; he remembered Boyd went for Auburn, strange for someone who lives on the entirely other coast. 

Isaac watched as Stiles turned down a few different roads, losing track of all of them. He had never been good with directions anyways. If he needed to, he could find his way out of here.. right? He eyed the scenery now as they turned in a slightly shadier part of town. The stores had barred windows and chains on the door handles. He looked over at Stiles curiously, wondering where they were exactly going.

Stiles seemed to be much more enlightened about the placement situation than Isaac was; he looked like he recognized this place well. He wondered if it was somehow apart of his past? Isaac wasn't sure. He didn't know Stiles too well.

Finally, Stiles pulled into a parking lot of one of the shadiest buildings Isaac had ever seen. It was made of old brick and had a rickety medal staircase that resembled a fire escape going up the side of it to the door, which was oddly on the second story instead of on ground level. He reached to get out of the car, but Stiles stopped him. Stiles rolled the window down slightly and whistled the tune to— was that the Pink Panther theme? After he had whistled it, Stiles seemed to wait expectantly. In response, the rest of the theme was whistled out since Stiles had only whistled the first half. 

"It's a safe code." Stiles explained as he got out of the car.

"I hope you know I can't whistle, Michael." 

"That sounds like a person problem, David," Stiles said almost mockingly with a smirk before shutting the Mercedes door hard behind him. He started going up the fire escape quickly, his feet barely gracing a metal step before going up the next one. Isaac followed after him, looking back at the car for a moment before continuing on his way up. 

"Why this place of all places?" Isaac questioned quietly as Stiles took out an old rusty key to unlock the door.

"Because, it's on the down low. This neighborhood is full of supernatural haters. Notorious for trashy racists." Stiles explained quietly as he pushed open the door and walked in.

The interior of the building was a major upgrade compared to the outside appearance. The carpet looked new, and it was furnished with somewhat nice furniture. Isaac looked around before a slim pale girl stepped out from the back, her dark shiny hair cut much shorter than Isaac remembered it. 

Kira Yukimura stood there in all her former glory and more. She had chin length black hair, and she was clad in her usual style. She walked over to Isaac and wrapped him in a hug. She was a rather affectionate person. She did the same with Stiles before she pulled back and away from them. "Welcome to our temporary humble abode." She motioned to the building with a slight smile.

"Allison should be here shortly." Kira informed as she looked at Stiles and Isaac, sitting down on the couch. "Make yourself at home, boys," she stretched out. 

Isaac eyed the furnishing in the room. It honestly looked much better than yesterday had expected it to. When told of Allison's soon arrival, he felt his insides flip. The last he had seen her properly, she had been dying in Scott McCall's arms. 

After a few minutes, there was a singsong whistling on the Pink Panther theme song outside the barred window.


	4. your friends will always just be in your way. trust me, they'll die or leave you either way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison Argent arrives to complete their group of heist members, excluding her father.

Allison Argent was quite different than Isaac remembered her. Then again, the last time he had seen her was in a casket at her funeral service. 

It was so strange to see her alive again.

Allison had her hair pulled up into a tight bun on top of her head. She had black eyeliner in a cat-eye style on her dark eyes, making her look even more elegant but threatening than before. She had short, cropped nails that were painted a blood red color. She was clad in a black tank top with light blue skinny jeans and a denim jacket, where she had her hands in her pockets. Her steps had a little limp in them, but she dominated the black heels she was wearing.

"Allison." Isaac said quietly, looking at her like he had just seen a ghost. Hell, it felt like he was looking at one right now. "You're alive." He said softly.

"I thought you were well informed I was back?" Allison raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling. She limped over to Isaac and wrapped her arms around him tightly, hugging him. He returned the hug eagerly— damn, he had missed her.

"I was, I was, I just- it's so good to see you again." Isaac swallowed slightly as he took in her scent. It was sweet, as always, but there was something else there. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but there was something different about her.

"How well do you know the Celestine Compound, Allison?" Stiles piped up when their hug broke apart, eyeing the two curiously.

"Well, given it was named after me, I'd like to think I know it pretty well." Allison reached in the back pocket of her jeans and took something out. It was a small piece of folded paper. She set it on the table, and it suddenly started unfolding itself. Isaac hadn't seen anything like it. It was without a wrinkle despite being crammed in her pocket. "This is a map of the entire compound." She explained before she walked into the kitchen. She opened a drawer and snatched two sharpies— a black one and then a red one, fine pointed. She walked back over to the map, getting on her knees so she wouldn't have to bend over to write on the table. After writing on it for a moment, she paused. She looked up at Kira. "Do you have any tacks?"

Kira thought for a moment before she disappeared behind one of the doors of the building. She reappeared moments later with a handful of multicolored tacks. With Allison's help, she pinned the map the Argent had provided up on a clear section of wall. 

"Alright, this will be easier for everyone to see. So my father and I have been planning based on the times of the nightly routine of the security at this compound. In Scott's section, Ward A, they have their break first. No wards have their breaks at the same time to prevent a mass break out." Allison laughed bitterly. "Too bad they don't know how Allison Argent works." She said before looking at the map, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I hope you are all perfectly aware we are going to have to take lives in this mission. It's us or them. There are no middle grounds." Allison looked at the three of them with an intensity in her dark eyes, a look Isaac had never seen before. "They're planning on killing a select few in Ward A on Thursday night. One of these selected is our Scott McCall." Her voice hardened a little. 

"How?" Isaac asked quietly.

Allison raised an eyebrow, not understanding what he meant at first before she realized what he was asking. "Lethal injection with yellow wolfsbane." She said. "Very painful." She added quietly for good measure.

Isaac's expression turned colder. "We've got to get this ready by Thursday then."

Kira eyed the layout. She took a sharpie from Allison's grip gently, marking the entrance to Ward A with the black sharpie. "So, we have got to get in there." She said slowly. "How do we get into the compound itself? They do CTs and ETs." Kira said, looking at the three.

Ah, ETs. In important high security buildings, they not only did CTs for healing supernatural, but they also did ETs: Eye Tests. They had developed a scanner that could check for a supernatural eye color. For example, if a Kitsune in normal mode was scanned, their orange eyes would show up anyways.

Isaac knew there was no way to avoid that except if one was a banshee.

The government had been lenient with the banshee kind; they could be useful for them. They picked and chose the ones they deemed useful by sending out for banshees to step forward for important positions in the government. The ones that didn't make it into the jobs were locked up. Isaac guessed that might of been what happened to the majority of banshees.

"My dad and I thought that over. Two of us are going through that entrance. Me and Stiles. We're the only human ones in this group. My father is going to be already inside of the building. Being an Argent gives up certain advantages." Allison explained as she looked over the map.

It was like this for several hours back and forth. Given today was Monday, they had a short time to get ready for all of this. Stiles had to stock up with weapons for both him and Allison, but she said that would be simple. Her father was the owner of more than enough guns and ammunition to last them all. Isaac, however, had never shot a gun before. He was deciding if he wanted to just go in there with no weapons other than his claws and teeth, or if he should get some extra strength by using a weapon. Kira had her swords and other things already with her.

This planning may not be the best in the entire world, but it was all they had.

They spent more hours on it, planning into the early hours of the morning. Everytime they would come up with a good idea, it would be shot down by something the compound had. It was a good thing Allison knew it like she did, or else they would of walked themselves into a suicide mission already. 

Isaac focused on the planning with a simple motive: get Scott out. He had to get the alpha out by Thursday evening, or else he would be gone. Just like everyone else Isaac ever loved.

Isaac wouldn't be able to handle losing Scott. Scott was- Scott was all he had left, and he had ended up abandoning him. He was going to make up for it with this. He was going to save Scott like Scott saved him. 

"My father says I'm too weak to go with you all on this heist, but I'm going to anyways. There is no way I'm not going to go in there and rescue my girlfriend. She doesn't even know I'm alive." Allison added quickly in explanation. 

Isaac was listening, but at the same time he wasn't all there at the moment. He just kept thinking about how much he needed Scott, how much he needed to see Scott again alive. If Allison could be here, then Scott could, too, right? Isaac had always lost too much. He had lost his mother, his brother, his father, Erica, Isaac, and Derek. Isaac knew he could not deal with anymore losses. Hell, he didn't feel like he could lose Lydia or Malia either. He didn't know Malia well, but she was pack. Pack needed to be protected.

"What are we going to do when we get them out?" Stiles spoke up.

"Book it to France." Isaac said immediately. "France has their borders open for American supernatural. I know, I checked. I did my part. What we are doing is quite illegal here, but I have a feeling Europe will appreciate it." He then had a thought. "What about the rest of the supernatural in there?" Isaac narrowed his eyes slightly. "We can't just leave them there."

"That's the plan, Isaac," Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly at Isaac.

"No, Scott wouldn't want that. He would want everyone to get out. Scott always tries to rescue everyone, no matter who they are." Isaac protested. "He's still the alpha, is he not? We should do what he would expect us to do."

"I agree with Isaac." Kira said softly. "Even after we get them free, there are going to continue to be more and more executions. They want us gone. We can't let them get rid of all of us." She agreed.

Isaac looked at Kira gratefully. It was nice to have someone support his point. However, Stiles didn't look too convinced. "I say we take our people and book it to France. We can't get everyone in that damn compound there."

"Isaac, we didn't take all the others into account. This would change the plan, almost entirely." Allison said softly. "It would make us throw our previous plans out the window."

"So we're just gonna leave them to die?" It wasn't Isaac this time. It was Kira.

"What other choice do we have?" Stiles raised his voice, slamming his hand down on the wall. "Derek didn't die for us to-"

"Derek didn't die for us to leave everyone else to die." Isaac snapped. "You act like you're the only one who knew him. He was my alpha!"

"You were such a hassle on him! Always running off and doing your own thing, tangling up with Scott. He wasn't even sure if you were in his pack anymore." Stiles spat back in response. This was about to get heated.

"He threw a god damn glass at me! You have no idea what I'm capable of, Stiles." His gaze darkened. "You don't get to decide what Derek died for. You're not him. Neither am I." 

Kira and Allison were looking uncomfortable thanks to the argument. "Guys, we should keep our voices down so we don't cause a dis-" Kira was cut off.

"You must think you're so great, don't you, Isaac? You're just coming back now, though. You left us! You left us for dead! Why do you suddenly care now? We needed you and you booked it to fucking France! You left the entire pack. Don't think this is a redeeming act, Isaac. I'm not getting anyone else killed for people I don't give a shit about." Stiles got up in Isaac's face.

"I'm back now! That's what matters, Stiles. You were going to leave us all for Derek and Canada, when we need you most. That didn't go as planned, did it?" Isaac knew he had hit a weak spot by the look that crossed Stiles's face.

"At least I didn't leave Scott when he needed me most." Stiles said, his voice lowering to a quiet venomous tone.

Isaac felt like he had been slapped. He thought of a response, and he regretted it as soon as he said it. "At least I didn't get Derek killed in a failed heist." 

"Oh?" Stiles raised an eyebrow. "You want to bring up deaths, Isaac? Because you have a damning list." He stepped back. "You didn't find Erica and Boyd in time. Your father followed you when you ran and he died. Maybe you even got your mother killed, too? I don't know, Isaac, you tell me."

Isaac veered back, eyes flashing a blood red as he looked at Stiles. He was about to respond when Allison cut him off.

"Both of you shut your fucking mouths before I duct tape them." Allison snarled. "Stiles, Derek's death wasn't your fault. Isaac, none of that was your fault. What will be y'all's fault is if we don't get to them all in time because you're here arguing like two idiots." She said coldly before she turned back to the map, starting to remark certain areas.

Stiles looked at Isaac for a moment before he turned towards the map. Isaac ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. It was the stress getting to the both. When stressed, their personalities caused them both to butt heads rather viciously. He did feel bad about what he said, but he figured Stiles wouldn't want to here his apologies. 

"What are we going to do, Alli?" Kira asked softly, looking at her. "Rescue everyone or just our pack?" 

"I'm sorry, but we don't have enough time to release everyone. We can get a couple more, and they might be able to release the rest. But this is all planned precisely on time. We'll try to see what we can do about the rest, Isaac." Allison nodded at him before looking at the map again.

"I'll run this over with my father and see what else we will be able to do." Allison heaved a sight as she took down the map. She pressed on a certain part of it and it folded back into a portable size. She put it in her back pocket as Kira picked up the tacks.

Isaac eyed the two before looking over at Stiles, who had walked over to the corner of the room and seemed to be pondering over something.

Isaac weighed his options before he made his way over to him. He caught Allison giving him a warning stare not to say anything to start another fight before she left the building. He could hear the door lock click behind her.

"I didn't mean what I said, Stiles." 

"I know."

"I just think we're all very stressed right now."

"We are."

"Are you going to actually talk to me or continue giving me short half-assed answers?" Isaac raised an eyebrow.

"I didnt- I didn't mean what I said either, asshole." Stiles glared at Isaac. "Let's just focus on getting my best friend and your boyfriend outta jail, alright?" He forced a half smirk.

"Sounds like a deal."


	5. lay me down, let the only sound be the overflow, pockets full of stones.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title of this chapter is lyrics from What The Water Gave Me by Florence + The Machine.

_Isaac wrapped his arms around the warm figure of his Scott, burying his face against Scott's skin. They had never made it official before he had left, and he wanted to now. Scott eagerly hugged him back, and Isaac felt him let out a small sob. He could feel his own tears gathering in his blue eyes, and he closed his eyes. He let the tears streak down his face as he held onto his entire world._

_"Isaac," Scott mumbled out. He sounded hoarse. Isaac released his grip on his future boyfriend so he could step back and look him over._

_Scott was bruised and battered, no doubt, but he was definitely alive. Isaac brought his hand up to touch Scott's cheek, and Scott leaned against his touch. "Scott," Isaac felt himself breath out for a moment._

_"You have- no idea- how glad I am to see you." Scott breathed shakily before pulling Isaac down into a kiss, their lips connecting perfectly. It was like their mouths were made for each other; they fit each other just right._

_Isaac's hands moved to both hold Scott's face as he kissed him back, their passion showing how much they missed each other. Scott pulled back at the same time Isaac did._

_"We've got to get out of here," Isaac said, entwining his fingers with Scott's as he pulled him towards their escape route. He had to step past some of the bodies that had had the life taken from them in the struggle of releasing the supernatural from the compound._

_"Definitely." Scott said quietly. His movements were stiff and a little unstable; he was still recovering from the experience of being locked up._

_"You and I, we are going to get to France. I promise. We're gonna get to France and be safe there. I can teach you French. It's going to be okay, Scott." Isaac said with a soft and meaningful smile._

Isaac's perfect dream of escaping with Scott was interrupted when he was woken by the sound of terrified screams. He scrambled off the couch, confused as all hell. It took a moment for the screams to register; it was Stiles. 

Worried about what might be happening to him, Isaac jumped up to his feet. He went up to the door that Stiles had disappeared behind the previous night. He tested the doorknob; it was locked. In the spur of the moment, Isaac slammed his shoulder up against it. The lock rather quickly gave out— it wasn't very loyal to its purpose of keeping people out. He made his way over to Stiles, unsure of what to do at first.

Isaac had nightmares all the time— when he was with Scott they were much less frequent. Scott had a calming trait to him. He made Isaac genuinely happy. Now that he wasn't with Scott, though, he was full of nightmares about Scott dying in various ways before he could get to him— or Scott betraying him and killing him, or many other ways of ruining the perfect escape that they had planned. 

"Stiles," Isaac said his name softly, approaching the panicky guy whose lanky limbs were flailing slightly as he tried to remember where he was. Isaac grabbed his face, making him look him in the eyes. "Stiles, Stiles, look at me." Isaac said slowly.

Isaac was using a technique that had been used on him when Melissa once came across him after one of his nightmares about his father. Lord, she was an angel about it. He tried to use those mannerisms with Stiles.

"He- he-" Stiles's voice dropped down to a normal tone, no more screaming. He still looked panicked. "I couldn't do anything, I couldn't, I couldn't-" Stiles kept repeating sayings like this over and over.

When Isaac had his nightmares, he would repeat things, too, until he realized it was just a nightmare and was over. He would beg not to be put in the freezer, he would beg to be left alone by his father, he would say all sorts of things.

"I know, Stiles, I know. It wasn't your fault." Isaac wasn't entirely sure what he was going on about, but he knew it was majorly important to comfort the person having the nightmare no matter what it's about.

 Stiles's volume dropped to a whisper. "I failed you, I-" he was suddenly beginning to come to and wake up fully. 

"You didn't fail him, you didn't fail anybody." Isaac said gently.

Stiles finally came to, realizing what was going on. He looked at the blues of Isaac's eyes before he looked down. He didn't have the energy to swat Isaac away or tell him to get the fuck off of him. "Uh, hey, Isaac."

Isaac raised an eyebrow, looking Stiles up and down. He was still a little shaky. "Are you alright now?" He asked carefully.

"Should I be honest or should I lie so you'll go away?" Stiles asked halfheartedly. "No, I'm not." He said quietly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Isaac asked gently. He had completely thrown the previous argument out the window. What mattered right now was that Stiles was okay.

"You know," stiles chuckled. "Out of all the people to come in the middle of the night and help me with a nightmare, I never expected it to be you." He admitted, shrugging his shoulders a little. He had seemingly dodged Isaac's question.

"Well, here I am." Isaac shrugged. "I.." he hesitated. "I have nightmares almost all the time. Sometimes about my dad, sometimes my mom, sometimes Camden.. Erica.. Boyd.." Isaac mumbled in admission.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry about that." Stiles said awkwardly.

"No, don't apologize. This is about you right now, not me." Isaac shook his head immediately. "Since you don't appear to be telling me to fuck off yet," Isaac made himself comfortable, sitting on Stiles's bed cross-legged. Stiles was sitting up now, and Isaac had moved his hands off of Stiles's face. "I'm all ears."

"I guess for you to understand, I have to start from the beginning, right? And Isaac, I swear to God, if you tell anyone about this, I will castrate you." Stiles warned before continuing. "When I first got the news of where Derek was.. I had been looking for him, by the way.. I just didn't think things over very thoroughly. My plan was very rushed. He- he was in the Christopher Compound, Ward B. I managed to get him out.. then I tried to get some others out." Stiles looked down, picking at his fingernails.

"Don't," Isaac said softly, pulling Stiles's hand off of his fingernail. Seeing Stiles doing that made him want to bite his own.

Stiles didn't protest, he just raised an eyebrow at Isaac before he continued the story. "I- I released a few others. They tried to get all the rest out while Derek and I made a run for it. We got out of the compound. It was a road trip for awhile.." Stiles's voice was getting a little shaky. "I thought it was going to work but.. they found us." He said simply. "Derek and I hid in separate places so if they found one, they wouldn't find the other. They found him first.. he never said he had a partner. They.." Stiles took a deep breath. "Shot him on the spot."

Isaac flinched as Stiles said the last part, even though he had known it was coming. "Stiles, I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Sorry doesn't help anybody, but thanks, Isaac." Stiles seemed to look at the werewolf under a different light now. "Thank you. I mean it."

Isaac looked at Stiles, studying his face for a moment before he stood up, taking Stiles's thanks as a signal to leave. "Anytime." He offered a weak smirk before he walked towards the door. "Try to get some sleep now. You're gonna need it for tomorrow." Isaac shut the door quietly behind him, not even bothering with the busted lock. He'd explain that to Kira in the morning. He was sure the angel probably wouldn't mind too much because of the circumstances. Isaac didn't just go around breaking door locks with his shoulder.

Isaac was disappointed he couldn't return to his perfect dream about Scott and taking him back to France. But he didn't regret helping Stiles. Sure, they had their differences, but he liked him, no doubt. He smiled slightly before he looked down at his fingernails. Scott would be proud of him and Stiles both for actually becoming official friends instead of acting like they hated each other. He didn't think he ever actually _hated_ Stiles; he just didn't enjoy his presence at times.

Isaac settled back down in a comfortable position on the couch, but he wasn't sure if he could return to sleep. He usually had trouble going back to sleep after waking up; that's part of the reason his own nightmares had been so bothersome to his sleep schedule. He couldn't just go back to sleep.

Isaac stared up at the ceiling as he tried to relax back into a slumber. While his body was still, though, his mind was racing. He was thinking of all the different ways the scene of rescuing Scott could play out. It could go amazing or it could go horribly wrong. There was no true way of telling how it would go. There was no banshee to tell them about bad feelings now. He was really regretting taking advantage of having someone with that ability. Then again, that ability hadn't saved Erica, or Boyd, or Derek, or Camden, or anybody. Now was not the time to be bitter, he reminded himself.

So instead, Isaac's mind shifted to thoughts of Scott. The way he looked when he smiled, how soft his lips felt against Isaac's in the dream, how relieved and peaceful he had felt in the dream when he had found Scott. Isaac was teeming with excitement to get his Scott safe and sound again. He just wanted Scott close to him and protected and taken care of.

Isaac knew he was hopelessly and utterly in love with Scott, and even though he was so far away, Isaac liked to imagine he could still feel his touch from the dream he had before the nightmare episode with Stiles. Thoughts of Scott being happy with him were soothing. They were starting to gently lull him to a nice slumber, where he could be relaxed and calm while he slept.

Despite his colorful and lovely thoughts of Scott and his magical smile, the rest of Isaac's sleep was a dreamless void.


	6. i'd be lying if i told you i'm fine, but i lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next day after the do more planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is lyrics from the song drowning. by EDEN.

Allison could hear the clicks of her high heels on the asphalt outside of the building Isaac, Stiles, and Kira were staying in. Today's outfit had been something a little different; a pale blue t-shirt with some saying on it and black skinny jeans with short black heels. Her hair had been down on her shoulders.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to braid it that morning.

Lydia used to braid Allison's hair all the time. She could remember the ginger's soft touches and the gentle weaving together of her hair. Lydia was a queen when it came to styling, wether it be clothes or hair and makeup. Allison could braid her hair herself, but she didn't tell Lydia that for awhile. Her reasoning was that she always wanted Lydia to do it for her.

Allison approached her car quietly, holding the key in her hand. She remembered all the times with Lydia in this car— not the Mercedes, but the first car she had gotten when she was at Beacon Hills. She would also prefer her and Lydia's car— it may be under Allison's name, but it would always be Lydia's, too.

Allison unlocked the car and got into the driver's seat. She closed it behind her, locking it immediately. She wasn't taking any chances in this neighborhood.

They had seemed to get a bit further in their research about the compound. The more Allison found out about the tortures of that place, the less she wanted Lydia to have to even be near it. She felt a sudden flash of pure rage, slamming her hand on the steering wheel. Why did it have to be Lydia? Sweet and smart Lydia? Why couldn't it of been Allison instead? She would choose to be put in that compound instead of Lydia being put in there any day. She didn't want her baby to suffer.

Allison took a deep breath before cranking the car to life. She put the vehicle into reverse, backing out of the shady gravel driveway of the building. She got onto the main road. Her house was in the richer part of town. She stopped at a red light, looking up at the night.

Allison's mind started drifting away from reality and the moment. Her grip on the dark steering wheel tightened a little, and she suddenly felt a rush of emotions. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

Sometimes she wished she hadn't even been brought back.

Many would call it a blessing, a second chance. Allison almost didn't want it. She didn't want to be in a world where Lydia wasnt alive— that's why her entire purpose seemed to be focused on getting Lydia out of that hellhole that was of her family's creation. If Lydia died, Allison would go crazy. Hell, she felt like she was crazy now.

One of the side effects of being brought back were flash backs. Flash backs and illusions of before she died. She could still hear Lydia sometimes. It was as if the ginger was dead, but she wasn't. Allison could save her. She still had a chance. 

_**You** are my new best friend._

"Please stop." Allison heard herself whisper, squeezing the steering wheel almost as if her life depended on it. "Not now. I'm on the road. I gotta focus on driving." She spoke to herself.

Allison bit down hard on her lip, ignoring how this action drew a few little droplets of blood. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. She was suddenly torn back to a full reality when the car behind her blew their horn several times in a row. She looked up to see the light had turned green, probably for awhile now.

Allison took a turn a little sharper than she had intended. She ignored the slight squeal of her tires; she was going too fast. She slowed down, uninterested in getting pulled over by a police officer and having to get her palm sliced open for a stupid Cut Test.

"Allison, get a damn hold of yourself. You're all over the place." She scolded herself quietly. She lightly tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel as she stopped as yet another red light. One thing she hated about Atlanta was the traffic that seemed omnipresent. 

_I love you, Allison._

The grip on the dark steering wheel tightened even more, ceasing the light tapping to instead hold onto it for dear life. Allison's teeth found their way back into her bottom lip, drawing blood like they had before. It was as if she didn't even notice, though, because she just bit down harder. 

"I love you, too, Lydia." Allison mumbled aloud, letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment before she opened them again just in time for the light to turn a bright green. She eased her foot onto the gas pedal, leaving the stoplight and the memories that had come with it behind her.

As Allison pulled up to her neighbourhood, she felt like she was little more in control than before. She hadn't heard Lydia's voice again for the entirety of the rest of the drive home, so maybe she was getting better about it. Right?

It was only a few more turns in the neighbourhood before Allison was in her driveway. She yanked the key out of the ignition, cutting the engine off swiftly. She leaned her head back in the seat, taking a moment to take a deep breath. Everything was so frustrating now— why couldn't they be like before she died? 

Allison bluntly reminded herself that wishing things were different wasn't going to help anyone or anything. She had to actually do something about all of this to make a difference. She unbuckled her seatbelt, regaining her composure before getting out of the car. She roughly shut the car door behind her, shoving the car key in her front left pocket. Surprisingly, more and more female jean brands were developing actual pockets in their pants instead of just sewing pieces of fabric on for the design to _look_ like pockets.

Allison strode towards the front door, wrapping her fingers around the cold steel door handle. As she suspected, it was locked. She took out her house keys, unlocking the door. She walked in, she looked around. After looking around for a moment, Allison turned around to lock the door behind her. 

"You're home a little early." 

Allison felt every muscle in her body stiffen as the sound of her grandfather's voice hit her ears. She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at him with a relaxed demeanor outwardly, despite how she felt on the inside. "Indeed I am." Allison responded slowly. "Why?"

"I've noticed you've been getting home later than usual recently. Since, oh, yesterday?"

"That's two days, that isn't exactly a pattern." Allison shot back with an even and calm voice.

"I think I deserve to know what you're up to." Gerard moved slightly towards her, looking at her with his beady eyes.

Allison glanced at the kitchen behind him. In a wooden block, she eyed the black handle of a blade protruding. "You don't deserve shit." She said calmly, offering her grandfather a smile as her gaze returned back to his face.

"Don't be like that, Alli. I brought you back, didn't I? You should be grateful." Gerard kept his same tone, unfazed by Allison's unwillingness to even pretend to like him. 

"Don't call me Alli. Only people I care about can call me that."  _Like Lydia._

"Allison, come here."

Allison reluctantly stepped forward. She went over the situation in her head, and she came across an idea. "I'm sorry- I just- just being back and the side effects have been really stressful," she changed her demeanor.

Gerard nodded. "They told me mood swings would be apart of it. It's alright, dear."

Allison felt physically sick when he called her that.

"Once you realize what an amazing kingdom I have created, you'll come to realize what all you've been blessed with." Gerard then disappeared towards his bedroom, going down the hall.

Allison made her way towards her own bedroom, trekking up the stairs quickly in her heels. As soon as she got into her room, she locked her door behind her. She slipped out of her high heels and tossed them towards the closet down, not even bothering to put them where they belong.

"An amazing kingdom, aye?" Allison whispered almost inaudibly. "Well, it's about to crumble like the Roman Empire." She said coldly to herself, beginning to undress. She wanted to slip into some comfortable pajamas and start doing more research about the place. Just because they weren't talking in the group at that building didn't mean the planning stopped there.

"I'll make sure it does." Allison assured herself as she pulled her t-shirt off. She then stepped out of her jeans, standing in her undergarments in her room. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Right on her gut was the scar.

It extended from the center of her stomach and went up a couple of inches. It was used to look always red and irritated, but now it was just a mark on her skin. That's what healing had done to it. 

It wasn't the scar that made her start crying.

Allison sat down on her bed, holding her head in her hands. She let the tears stream down her cheeks. She was quiet while crying, silent sobs wracking her body as she just started letting it all go, letting it all out.

Tears going down her face, Allison got to her feet. She made her way to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror there, too, as if she expected the reflection looking back at her to be a different person entirely. She studied herself, unsure as to what she was really looking for. She grabbed a make up pad and started scrubbing any traces over makeup off of her face. Concealer, eyeliner, mascara; she wanted it all off. She wanted to see herself, plain and clear, like how Lydia saw her in the mornings without any makeup. 

Even after the majority of the makeup was gone, Allison continued scrubbing her face until it was slightly reddened and irritated. She still had tears in her eyes as she did so, clinging to her dark eyelashes before dripping down onto her skin, cascading down to her jaw. Allison used to think crying made her weak, but no. Now she knew it meant she was strong enough to show she actually had emotions.

Lydia had taught her that.

They continued to tell her over and over again that remembering Lydia was the problem Allison was having. That she needed to let go of all of the memories she was clinging to for dear life; soon Lydia wouldn't even matter anymore, right? They'd just put her down with the rest. She had just manipulated Allison into trusting her, into believing her lies, right? If Lydia had manipulated Allison..

Then she had manipulated her into believing in herself.

She had manipulated her into becoming even more confident and showing off her body as she would like, because it was her body and nobody could tell her what she should and shouldn't do with it.

She had manipulated her into believing that she was actually strong, that she was powerful, that she mattered.

She had manipulated her into falling totally and utterly in love with Lydia Martin, her queen and best friend.

Allison knew Lydia wasn't the problem. Lydia never was the problem, she would never be the problem. Her illusions, her memories, they weren't the problem. The supernatural— Lydia, Scott, Kira, Isaac, Malia, Derek— they weren't the problem. Those humans who had fallen in love with them— Stiles, herself— they weren't the problem. The unaware citizens, the easily manipulated masses were never the problem either. 

But she knew who was, and she was hell-bent on getting rid of him.


End file.
